


Always Returning

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Developing Relationship, Eating, Fix-It, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Protective Steve Rogers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: Loki has no interest in eating. Steve understands a little of why, but not all.





	Always Returning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/gifts).



> For veliseraptor, for the prompt “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not, you need to eat.” (post-IW Steve/Loki). 
> 
> As seems to happen with my fics, this was supposed to be a drabble, so I hadn’t intended it to need a title, but when the above turned up in the dialogue, I remembered it as the title of one of my favorite pieces of modern hammered dulcimer music (yes, I’m a nerd, why do you ask?), [“Always Returning”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTfSPPPaEoI) by Vince Conaway. It sets the scene rather nicely, I think.
> 
> If you're over on Tumblr, please consider following me at [gaslightgallows.tumblr.com](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com/) for more fic, reblogs about writing, and lots of randomness. Thank you for reading and especially for commenting. Comments are love. ♥

Steve paused in the doorway of his living room, watching Loki and pursing his lips thoughtfully. The Asgardian prince was curled up on Steve’s sofa, a blanket draped over his long legs, his springy hair carelessly pulled back from his face. He was reading, so engrossed in Steve’s copy of _The Return of the King_ that even Loki’s always-alert ears hadn’t noticed Steve’s return. 

He hated to interrupt anyone while they were reading, especially when it was the first thing that Loki had shown any interest in since... Steve’s gaze dropped to the food on the coffee table. Before he’d left for his meeting with Fury, he’d laid out a meal for his recovering companion. Nothing impressive – canned chicken noodle soup, a plate of simple sandwiches, rugelach from the little bakery on the corner, whose owner reminded Steve so much of little Mrs. Tonitzky, who’d lived upstairs from him and Ma when he was about twelve. And tea – Thor had assured him that Loki would actually drink tea, so long as there was enough sweetener, so Steve had put out hot water and tea bags and sugar. 

He had been gone for hours, but Loki had touched none of it. 

Steve cleared his throat. 

Loki didn’t jump – not quite – but he looked up quickly, with a scared and hunted expression that vanished almost before Steve could see it. Almost. “Returned so soon, Captain?”

“‘Soon’?” Steve nodded at the clock, and grinned at Loki’s owlish surprise at the time. “It’s been five hours.”

“I was very pleasantly distracted.” Loki held up the paperback. “The title intrigued me.”

“I can see why. ...For five hours?”

“I’ve been trying to make sense of the appendices.”

“Okay, yeah, that takes time.”

“There were books of genealogy in Asgard’s libraries, stretching back thousands of years and across vastnesses of space, that were less complex.”

Steve draped his jacket over the back of an armchair, and looked pointedly from Loki to the food. “Not to your liking?”

Loki’s smile came a fraction of a second too late. “I don’t mean to be rude, Captain, but—”

“Steve.”

“—American cuisine isn’t something I care to subject myself to again.”

“I can always get takeout. Italian, Japanese, Moroccan – there’s a new Wakandan restaurant we could check out. They might even give us a discount for being friends of the king.”

Loki’s eyes passed uneasily over the cold soup and tea, the stale sandwiches and sugary cookies, and a muscle in his neck jumped. “I’m not hungry,” he said at last. “Take it away.” And, imperiously dismissing meal, man, and all, he returned to his book. 

A rill of annoyance inched up Steve’s spine. “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not, you need to eat.”

“You sound like my brother,” said Loki, rather sulkily. “I don’t want to.”

“If that’s mean to be an insult, you’ll have to try again, because right now I sound just like my mother, thanks.” Loki had the presence of mind to look abashed, which Steve thought was almost... cute. “Did I ever tell you about my ma? She was a nurse, and I spent my whole life before the serum sick, so I got to hear this speech from her a _lot_. And I know how much of a chore it can be. Eating.”

“It is a nuisance, a curse, and a waste of time. Not that I haven’t got plenty of time to waste,” Loki amended reluctantly, “but I should think that you humans, with your insignificant lifespans, would find better things to do than bothering so much about... consuming.”

Steve sighed. “Loki. You haven’t eaten anything since you got here. And it’s been almost a week since Thanos—”

Loki’s reaction was violent in its abruptness; although the Titan was very thoroughly destroyed, the mere sound of the name made Loki crumple in on himself. The book tumbled from his fingers and hit the floor with a fluttery thud. Loki pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders and huddled back against the couch cushions, tucking his chin against his chest. 

Steve cursed silently in three different languages, then cleared away the unwanted food, moving the dishes as quietly as possible and pouring away the tea and, after giving it a brief taste, the soup. Natasha had recommended an organic brand and Steve had been willing to try something new, but there was just nothing like Campbell’s. The cheese sandwiches were a bit dry but salvageable, so he wrapped those and put them in the fridge. The rugelach, he ate. He could always get more. 

Then he filled a glass with water and brought it back and set it carefully on the coffee table, then stooped and retrieved the dropped book and placed it beside the glass. 

“Steve,” Loki sighed. “You needn’t worry so much. I’ve survived far longer than five days without food.”

“So’ve I.” Steve sat down in the armchair opposite. “It’s not fun.”

“It’s inconsequential. Food is more of a pleasure than a necessity, for my people.”

Steve wondered which of his people he meant. “It doesn’t sound like it’s even much of a pleasure for you, according to your brother.”

“Thor worries about me too much, as well.”

“Getting someone back from the dead does that to a fella,” said Steve softly. 

Loki shot him an unreadable glance, and then looked at the water in what could only be called terror. “It chokes me,” he whispered. 

Steve’s jaw tightened, remembering what Thor had told him of how Loki had... had _died_ at Thanos’s hands, and remembering the state he’d been in when he’d appeared in Wakanda. The marks on his neck... unable to speak, barely able to breathe, clinging to a life he shouldn’t have still had.

“Even the thought of water in my throat... I once spent a lifetime being starved of both food and water... to make me strong. The need for sustenance is... weakness.”

“Not weakness,” said Steve, leaning forward and reaching out to lightly touch Loki’s cloth-covered knee. “Life.”

A bitter laugh exploded from Loki’s chest. “Who would choose to be alive?”

“You, for one. Me, for another.” Steve smiled a little. “Maybe out of love, or spite. Or we’ve just still got things to do.”

“Never satisfied,” Loki replied, an answering smile in his eyes, if not on his lips, “and always returning.”

“Like a bad penny. That’s us, I guess.”

Loki’s eyes flickered again to the water, this time with a hint less trepidation. Before he could asked, Steve held it out, and helped to close and steady Loki’s fingers around the glass.


End file.
